say most of what needs doing is basic. Maybe I can help. It's my neck too,' he reminded. 'Don't blame me for taking care of it.'
'I don't.' Mauger looked at Nadine. She had entered the engine room as they had talked. 'What is it?'
'The captain wants a full report.' She looked at the dismantled generator and added, 'I heard what you said about replacing the governor. I suggest you check the spare before you do.'
'Why?' Mauger scowled when she told him. 'Some worker on Kaldar committing sabotage? Are you serious?'
'Vargas was complaining about sloppy work. There could be a connection. How often do governors blow?'
'Rarely,' admitted the engineer. 'What's your point?'
Dumarest said, before Nadine could answer, 'It could be simple chance or it could be sabotage. If it happens again we could lose the generator. Are you willing to take that kind of chance?'
'Not if I can help it,' said Mauger. 'I'll check it out. You can report to the captain when I've finished.'
Cradled by his chair in the control room Lief Chapman was a part of his domain. A meld of machine and mind, of science and art; apparent magic which had given Mankind the universe to rove in. All useless now. The vessel had turned into a coffin.
With the Erhaft field down it was traveling below the speed of light and long before it could reach a habitable world everyone aboard would be dead. Starvation would see to it, and thirst, and inevitable madness. Not even the magic of drugs would stave off the inevitable. But that would not happen to his command. The vagaries of chance had seen to that.
'Captain?' Niall was at his side, eyes on the main screen. 'You've checked it out?'
Chapman nodded, eyes drifting over the panels, the ranked instruments. Space was far from empty and nothing in it was safe.
'As yet we're lucky,' said the navigator. 'This area is relatively clear. It all depends on how long it takes to affect repairs.'
Dumarest provided the answer. Chapman scowled as he finished his report.
'How long?'
'A day, maybe less.' Dumarest noticed the captain's expression. 'I'm quoting the engineer. The original governor is useless. If it hadn't been for Mauger I'd be saying the same about the generator, but we had luck and he was quick to act. He needs to calibrate the spare governor, replace the safeties and do what he can to clean the coils.'
'Why waste time messing with the spare?'
'It can't be relied on.'
'We can't use it?'
'I didn't say that. The tolerances are way out. It has to be stripped and recalibrated to accepted standard. If that isn't done it will blow. When it does it could take the generator with it. We don't carry a spare generator. We won't have a spare governor either.' Dumarest added, grimly, 'It's a gamble I'd rather not take.'
Chapman was equally grim. 'We have no choice.'
He pointed at the screen before him, the stars it portrayed. Cross-hairs quartered a glowing point. As they watched the star moved to one side. An illusion; it was the ship which had moved.
'We're caught in a Blakstaad vortex,' explained the navigator. 'Spiraling into the center. There's a black hole there. When we get too close we'll be sucked in.'
Dumarest said, 'How long do we have?'
'An hour. Seventy five minutes at the most. The speed of approach increases the closer we get.' Chapman reached for his panel, punched a button. 'Mauger?'
'With you, captain.'
'Make an immediate start on the repairs. Use all the help you need.'
The engineer snapped, 'Haven't you been told what happened? The situation we're in?'
'It makes no difference. Just do as I order. You've an hour to get this ship out of trouble. Understood?'
'It can't be done.'
'Do it!'
Mauger snarled his anger. 'To hell with that. We haven't the time and no stupid order is going to change things. Get that into your skull. We haven't the time!'
'Damn you! We're heading into a black hole!'
'You want me to put things back together again?' snapped the engineer. 'Just put them back? Right, I'll do it, but it'll make no difference. Unless it's done right it'll be a waste of time. The generator won't work or, if it does, it'll blow in seconds and leave only scrap. You know that.'
Dumarest said, quickly, 'There's a way out. We can use slowtime.'
Speeding their metabolism so that minutes turned into hours. But using it was dangerous. The mere act of living burning energy, created hunger, searing thirst and numbing fatigue. Water became a thick, cloying syrup. Food was inedible. Objects gained apparent weight because of massive inertia. Muscles were strained, sinews torn, any normal impact resulting in pulped flesh and shattered bone.
'You've used it?' Chapman sighed his relief as Dumarest nodded. 'Teach the others how to adapt. I'll have Chagal deliver it to the engine room. He'll stay to help.'
'With booster shots, ice, cold water and glucose,' said Dumarest. To the navigator he added, 'Find us a world to run to. Pick one which is close.'
Chapter Ten
Fionnulawas a world redolent of decay. A dull ball of brown and grey circling a scarlet sun blotched and marred by scabrous patches of sooty blackness. The sky was umber traced with drifting clouds of dusty brown. The soil was harsh, gritty, bearing vegetation the color of dust. Walls and houses were of rock, fretted and pocked as if made by the fumbling hands of children. On the field itself a truncated cone stood like a monument in an ancient graveyard.
'A dump!' Zehava voiced her contempt. 'It's spooked. Even the air stinks.'
'We didn't come for the air.' Dumarest had noticed the acrid taint as he had noticed the oddity of the field. No loungers, touts, the usual entrepreneurs. None eager to talk to the crew, to obtain passage, to offer cargo. Not even the expected guards. A world seeming to be devoid of curiosity. One apparently free of greed. 'They have what we need.'
'Taverns, I hope. Recreation of a kind – the compliment is getting stale.'
'Keep them busy. I want the ship cleaned and aired. Have them settle any personal disputes then put them to drill. Badwasi will help. Turn them into a disciplined force.' Pausing he added, 'Make the show impressive.'
'To awe the natives?' She smiled her understanding. 'A show of muscle to instill respect and to ease the negotiations. And we don't have to hurry them.' Her fingers closed on his arm. 'It's time we got close, Earl. Really close. Let's find a hotel. We need comfort and privacy.' Her tone sharpened as he shook his head. 'Why not?'
'We haven't the time. You're needed here. I'm due to meet Nadine to arrange the repairs.'
The town was reminiscent of Kaldar with its narrow streets and winding ways, but the people were different. Small, subdued, faces bland and bearing a common likeness. The obvious result of intensive inbreeding. Their clothing followed natural colors brightened with stylized designs which, he guessed, denoted status and skills. He saw no sign of weapons.
Nadine was waiting before the repair sheds. As they met she said, 'This is an odd place, Earl. Almost like something from a dream. But it seems peaceful and the people are polite.'
'A cultural trait.'
'You've met similar before?'
'All worlds have their own ways. Some are stranger than others. Did you discover who can best help us?'
'Aslam Cazele. He's waiting for us in his tower.'
He sat in a chamber ornamented with relics of former days; banners, weapons, scrolls illuminated with elaborate designs. An old man, puffed beneath his clothing, his face strongly boned, eyes hard, bright with a watchful sheen.
'You are welcome.' His gesture invited them to sit. 'You will join me in cakes and wine, I insist. Strangers are
